The One Who Got Away

by Kristina Wright

  Seichi was far too distracted by her breasts to notice at first; he was rubbing his face against them, moaning against the supple flesh as Sarah held him to her, her free arm running over his back, feeling the taut muscles rippling under her fingertips.

  Her boy shorts were soaked, her nerves burning in anticipation of more of his touch. When his hand found its way between her legs, Sarah gasped at the jolt of pleasure that ricocheted through her. Seichi moved his thick fingers slowly, exploring her before pulling off her shorts, leaving her fully exposed in the middle of the shop. Precome dripped down her hand as she tugged at his erection, while his thick fingers moved slowly and purposefully over her clit. He started to thrust against her hand; he was moaning and began to slip his fingers inside Sarah’s dripping slit. She sighed—his fingers were stroking her in all the right places.

  “Sarah…ah, you’re so wet…” Seichi panted, “I want you so much…I…oh god.” He thrust harder into her hand and Sarah let go, stepping back from his fingers. She couldn’t believe this was happening—what an absurdly normal day it had started out as, and now, well, she hadn’t expected any of this to ever be possible.

  “I want you too, now, Seichi. I don’t want to wait any longer.” Sarah sat on the coffee table and reached out for his cock, but he pushed her hands away, a self-assured smile on his lips.

  “If this is my only chance, I’ve got to make it my best, don’t I?” he asked, as he sank to his knees on the plush black carpet.

  Strong calloused hands reached out and spread her legs; he pulled her forward, burying his face between her thighs. He slid his mouth over her, lapping at the soft folds as he held her firmly in place. His tongue traced over her most sensitive spots—he quickly found them and sent Sarah’s whole body tingling. She was undone, she couldn’t escape from his touch and as his intensity built she couldn’t hold back and came; her legs trembled and her hips quaked as he refused to stop. A second wave overtook her and she came again, her juices dripping down over her thighs and into his mouth.

  By the time he released her, Sarah was panting and glistening with sweat; she’d lost count of how many times she had come, and was desperate to have more of him. “Seichi, where did you learn to do that?” she managed, her voice hoarse from moaning.

  Seichi stood and looked her in the eyes as he licked his lips, that smile back to tease her. “I always wondered what you would taste like,” he whispered as he climbed over her onto the table, straddling her waist. “Like that time we went driving in the mountains. I wanted to taste you out in the fresh air, with no one else around for miles.” He reached down and pushed her breasts together, massaging them between his hands. “The time never seemed right for it, but now we have time, don’t we?”

  “Yes, mmm, Seichi, ah…please,” was all Sarah could say as he began rolling her nipple with one hand, the other gripping his erection firmly, stroking himself over her. Sarah reached up and pressed her breasts together, her pink nipples darkened and taut from his touch.

  “Good girl, keep them like that for me,” he instructed as he lowered himself and thrust his cock between them.

  The combined sensation of his hardness and the heat—it was almost unbearable. She tipped her chin downward watching him pump his hips forward and darted her tongue out, hoping to catch a taste of him. He was seeping so much precome that her chest was slick with it, the natural lubricant allowing him to push freely. Seichi gripped her breasts, his hands moving over and around hers. When she looked up at him, his head was thrown back, eyes closed, and he seemed lost in the action.

  She was certain he would come on her breasts, or at least let her drink him down, but he stopped abruptly. Relinquishing his grip and rising to his feet, his cock throbbed, and drops fell onto her as he bent down and kissed her roughly, his lips bruising hers with the force. They were entangled, their bodies pressed together so tightly that it was hard to say where one stopped and the other began. The kisses went on and on; Sarah felt a desperate need to keep him close, and she could feel the same coming from him, too. Whatever happened next, this day was already the start of something big.

  Far too soon, he stood up and pulled her to her feet, holding her as his hands ran down her body appreciatively. He cupped her butt, squeezing it and pressing his cock between her thighs, moving slowly against her. They turned around; it was as though they were dancing until he sat down on the edge of the coffee table. He reached up and stroked his hands over her hips, guiding her forward until Sarah hovered over his twitching cock—god, how she’d longed for that ever since they’d met.

  That first joining was unbelievable; Sarah was filled with him and she sighed contentedly as he moaned a low rumble that echoed in her ear. They embraced each other for a moment, and then he whispered, “Now, bounce yourself on my cock, Sarah.”

  She did as he asked; the ability to be in control at a time like this was getting her off. He held her waist firmly, his face rubbing against her breasts and neck, the stubble on his chin rough but ticklish on the sensitive skin. She rode him as hard and deep as she could until her muscles were quivering and she had to stop or risk falling off.

  “Tired?” he asked when she couldn’t move anymore.

  She nodded and Seichi helped her to stand, then joined her. They kissed again and somehow slid down each other’s bodies until they were lying on the floor together, the thin fibers of the carpet feeling cool and soft on her bare flesh. He ran his hand down over her side and raised her leg, then slid himself inside her once again. Sarah moaned and sank into the feeling as he kissed along her neck and his hands went all over her body, possessing her fully.

  The force of his thrusts caused Sarah to shudder and her hand went to her clit, stroking herself until she began to come around him. It was incredible, better than anything that she had imagined. His expression said he was fighting against the clenching and tightening, struggling to go deeper and maintain his control. He pushed, grinding inside her as he growled, then bit her shoulder, leaving a passionate bite mark as he came, emptying himself. He kept thrusting, as though his body were on autopilot, moving until he was certain that they were both satiated.

  Lying on the rug still connected, they barely spoke. Their hands lazily trailed over each other’s bodies and it was only when goose bumps began to break out that they arose. Seichi was in the middle of fastening his belt while Sarah pulled her panties on.

  “Sarah, I shouldn’t have…I hope I didn’t rush this. I don’t want to ruin it.” Seichi looked shocked, a mild wave of postcoital panic washing over his features.

  She smiled. “It’s fine, Seichi,” she said, and shrugged as she straightened out the hem of her dress. “Second chances don’t come along every day. Whatever comes of this, I’m ready for it.”

  PHOTOGRAPHS

  Jillian Boyd

  There were only so many longing looks she could take from him. Rachel gathered her equipment and excused herself to the groom-to-be and his groomsmen, mumbling something about having to change the film in her camera—even though it was entirely digital. As she dashed down the corridors of the hotel back to her room, she mentally cursed herself. That was the fourth time she had used that ridiculous excuse today. Frankly she was amazed they hadn’t cottoned on to it yet.

  She fumbled with the key card, having to swipe it three times before the light came on and the lock clicked open. Carefully putting away her equipment, she not-so-carefully threw herself down on the bed, grunting at making an impact on the hard mattress.

  “Why?” she groaned into the room. “Of all the people in the world, why him?”

  It wasn’t the first time she had done that. She knew it wouldn’t be the last time either.

  She’d suspected something from the moment she’d heard the groom-to-be’s last name. It sounded awfully similar to a name she thought was buried far away in her past. The name of a man whose lips she could still taste when she thought about them hard enough. The name of a man who had whispered his undying love to
every single inch of her naked body, many times over.

  She had brushed it away as a silly coincidence. It wasn’t him that was getting married.

  It turned out she was right. It was his brother.

  She’d been dreading the weekend of the wedding ever since. And it wasn’t like she could just nip off at any moment’s notice. She was the wedding photographer—and she had agreed to be there at every single point, documenting the entire joyous occasion for the bride, groom and attending families.

  Including his brother, who was serving as best man.

  She had hoped that maybe, somehow, Benedict wouldn’t recognize her. That the intervening seven years would have erased her from his memory. It was stupid to hope that, of course. From the moment the bride enthusiastically introduced her to the family, squeaking, “This is Rachel! She’s so brilliant!” in her harsh German accent, she knew she was done for. The rest of the family had no clue as to who she was, apart from just the photographer. Benedict, however…

  “Rachel?”

  His face lit up as soon as he laid eyes on her. “God, Rachel, I can’t believe…”

  “Hello!” she said, shaking his hand with the fervor of a luchador shaking up his opponent. “I’m Rachel Hahn, the photographer!”

  “Rachel, I know who you are…”

  “Are you the brother of the bride then? How lovely! You look like the perfect best man,” she continued, not giving him the chance to speak. Benedict looked utterly puzzled as Rachel excused herself for the first of many times and went off to her room.

  But of course he followed her. Of course he stopped her at the elevators. Of course he smelled of that exact same silky crisp perfume as he had, way back when.

  “Seven years and you won’t even acknowledge me? Rachel, I thought with what we had…”

  “Please don’t do this to me. Just pretend…”

  “I don’t know you? You’re not here? We’re not who we were? We didn’t make love on the dewy park grass while the sun came up in Vienna?”

  “Vienna was a long fucking time ago, Benedict. And so was Paris. And Rome and…wherever else we went that summer. Just…don’t.”

  She stepped into the elevator, watching the door close on the most beautiful man in the world, his face weighted by sadness. She made it all the way into the shower before she let herself break down and cry.

  That was Thursday. The wedding was Saturday afternoon. Rachel sighed again, as she curled up on her bed.

  “Why didn’t I just…fuck it.”

  She closed her eyes, blocking out the world but letting in the exact memories she was trying to avoid.

  “Bendy!”

  Benedict pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off a headache. It was entirely too hot outside. Combine that with the fact that the love of his life, a woman who he thought he had lost forever, had been hired as the photographer for his brother’s wedding, and Ben was surprised he hadn’t yet keeled over with a banging migraine.

  “What is it, George?” he groaned, lifting himself off the sofa in their suite. His brother stood, grinning, wearing his poshest cricket outfit. He knew what was coming.

  “You up for a game?”

  “Let’s see. It’s about nine hundred degrees outside…I’m not feeling well…and, oh yes, I absolutely hate cricket. So, no.”

  “Ah, come on. It’s a bit of fun. Anna really wants to learn.”

  “I don’t believe for one minute Anna wants to learn how to play cricket.” said Ben, lying down on the bed and wincing at the impact against the hard mattress.

  “She really does! Come on, it’ll be a laugh. We’ll get Dad to teach her. And we’re having Rachel take pictures of it all.”

  Ben winced again. “Then I definitely don’t want to come.”

  “Why not? I’ve seen you looking at her, all wistful and longing. She’s lovely, you’re…acceptable. Go for it!”

  “George, I’m not going to hook up with your wedding photographer.”

  “I’m just trying to help, Bendy. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you happy about…well, anything, really.”

  “Would that be about seven years ago?”

  “I’m not keeping track of your mood swings, brother dear,” said George, sticking his tongue out like a little kid. George was thirty-two years old. Surprisingly. “I’m going to teach my wife-to-be how to wield a cricket bat. If you want to grace us with your presence, we’re on the south court.”

  “Right. Do I bring ice packs and arnica cream, just in case Anna gets a little too enthusiastic with her swing?”

  George rolled his eyes and left for the courts. Benedict sighed, gazing at the ceiling. Rachel Hahn. Seven years ago, Rachel Hahn walked into his life and flipped it completely upside down. She was the love of his life. And he’d been the idiot who walked away from the one thing he had been sure about.

  So it was a kind of kismet that both of them ended up here, at the same time, with Rachel being the photographer for his brother’s wedding to Anna. He wondered if it was a second chance, handed to him on a silver platter.

  And he cursed his brother for the umpteenth time. Not that George knew about Benedict’s history with Rachel. For a brief second, he debated telling his brother and going home, where his heart would lie broken but safe.

  But that would have been taking the easy, cowardly way out. Again.

  Despite having set herself up in a shadier corner of the south court, Rachel felt like an egg slowly frying underneath the late afternoon heat. She wasn’t sure why George insisted she take candid pictures of a family cricket game—especially since she was only here to shoot the wedding and the preparations. This was not in her plans.

  Nevertheless, it was their weekend, so Rachel had obliged. And from the looks of it, Benedict wasn’t anywhere to be seen. After all that tension, it was a definite plus. As she watched George trying to help Anna get to grips with the bat, she took in a deep breath. The sweet scent of summer blossoms hung heavily in the air, and the heat draped over her shoulders like a comfortable duvet in winter.

  She liked it here, where the shade protected her just enough. If she could, she would fall asleep in this spot, although taking a nap on the job wouldn’t exactly be professional. But her eyes felt leaden and her lips dry. Maybe just a little nap? Or a drink, at least?

  “Rachel! Can you come and set up here? I want some close-ups of the field,” yelled Anna. Rachel squinted.

  “I can take close-ups from here, you know, Anna. Since I’ve got a zoom lens and all.”

  “Yes, but really up close! I want…how do you say…eine sehr gute Sicht auf unser Glück.”

  Rachel wasn’t entirely sure that a very good view of our happiness was something you’d see on pictures of a cricket game that so far had featured more cursing and falling over than an afternoon spent ice-skating. But she gamely pottered around and adjusted her setup to suit Anna’s wishes.

  As the game continued, accompanied by more falling and cursing, Rachel found herself wishing for sun cream—the sun began to feel less like a comfortable duvet in winter and more like the reflection of a large magnifying glass intent upon melting her. She hadn’t counted on this kind of heat at all.

  Just as she hadn’t counted on Benedict’s sudden appearance.

  He ambled down the steps leading toward the court, giving a courteous nod toward his brother and Anna. Then he locked eyes with her, seemingly hell-bent on talking, which was exactly what Rachel had been trying to avoid. A tense knot formed in her chest, not helped by the relentless sun seemingly turning the south court into a tropical beach resort.

  “Rachel. I was… Are you all right?”

  She was not all right. Her legs wobbled like jelly, head spinning and mouth dry. She felt herself falling and blacking out, but somehow the collision never registered. There were only two strong, safe arms, breaking her fall.

  “Rach…”

  She must have been dreaming. She must have actually fallen asleep in the warm g
rass on the south court. She could hear a deep, languid voice calling her name, followed by a tap tap tap which was almost musical.

  “Going…water.”

  Water? Oh yes, that what she needed. If she could only lift her head and sit up… Wait. Why did everything feel so heavy? And where was she?

  She blinked, slowly coming back to herself. Same hard mattress…same duvet covers…still in Sanderson Lodge, still had a wedding to photograph. So that must have meant…

  “You’ve woken up! Christ, I was worried about you.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake, she thought. It had to be him catching her, and it had to be him bringing her to his room. Benedict’s green eyes were full of concern, his hand brushing over her forehead. “Blimey, you’ve caught the sun on your face. And here I thought you were never without Factor 50.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to use Factor 50 at a British countryside wedding,” she grumbled, slowly sitting up. “God, I could murder a drink right now.”

  Without missing a beat, Benedict handed her a glass of water. “If you want something stronger, I could always break into the mini-fridge. It would cost me five pounds a bottle, but I’ll do anything you want just to make you stay and talk to me.”

  He looked like a particularly hopeful puppy, gazing into her eyes with the words Please talk to me written in his glance. Rachel took a huge gulp of water, having every intention of standing up and walking back out, but something kept her rooted to the hard mattress. Something that she hadn’t felt in forever and was damn sure not expecting to feel right now.

  A slight sympathy toward Benedict had won her over. “All right. Talk. Tell me why you didn’t show up. Tell me why you left me alone in a station in Zagreb. Tell me why you chose exactly that particular day to break my heart, because I’ve been trying to figure that out for the last seven years and, wouldn’t you know it, I haven’t a fucking clue.”